


Rearrange Me Until I'm Sane

by kiwiana



Category: Twilight (Movies), Twilight Series - All Media Types, Twilight Series - Stephenie Meyer
Genre: Alternate Universe - Dark, Alternate Universe - Human, F/M, Gang Rape, Mental Breakdown, Mental Institutions, Schizophreniform Disorder
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2009-11-10
Updated: 2009-11-10
Packaged: 2018-02-12 23:44:47
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence, Major Character Death, Rape/Non-Con
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,203
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/2128917
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/kiwiana/pseuds/kiwiana
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>The girl in the corner of the room is a pitiful shadow of who she was, a broken figure dressed in white. </p>
<p>This is dark fic. Very dark. Please pay attention to the archive warnings and the tags.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Rearrange Me Until I'm Sane

**Author's Note:**

> Spoilers through New Moon. Title is from Pink Floyd. 
> 
> This is dark fic. Very dark. Please pay attention to the archive warnings and the tags.
> 
> None of the Twilight characters belong to me, or I'd be a lot richer than I am.
> 
> Originally published on LiveJournal 2009-11-10.

The girl in the corner of the room is a pitiful shadow of who she was, a broken figure dressed in white. From the doorway, Jacob can see the bruises on her wrists, the patches of hair missing where she’s clawed it out of her scalp.

“She’s worse,” Jacob murmurs quietly.

“The doctor said her delusions have... morphed into reality for her,” Charlie answers. His voice is haggard, the result of too many coffees and not enough sleep. He moves between the station and the hospital, only eating and resting when Jacob or Billy or Harry force him. They worry that Charlie will end up as catatonic as his daughter, but his whole life revolves around her.

Bella’s whole world revolves around a fantasy she’s created for herself because her mind rejects her memories.

“Can I go in?” Jacob asks, hopeful and fearful for the answer as always.

Charlie nods. “She’s sedated, so you should be okay. I’ll stay and watch, though, just in case. And let you out, when you’re ready to go.”

“Sure,” Jacob agrees easily, taking a deep breath before he opens the door.

It’s the smell that hits him first. It’s not overpowering—she still has control over her bodily functions, it’s not like she sits there in a pile of her own excrement or anything—but the stale air makes him want to gag nonetheless. He can’t understand how Bella can bear it; then he wonders if maybe fresh air would overwhelm her now.

“Hey Bells,” he says softly, and she glances up at him. Her eyes are dull, lifeless; thanks to the fact that they shove half a pharmacy down her throat, she can’t feel a damn thing.

She remembers things, though. Things that didn’t happen, things that couldn’t happen. Her mind rejects the evidence, so it invents new possibilities to fill in the gaps.

“Jacob,” she murmurs through cracked lips. It breaks Jacob’s heart, seeing her like this; she looks like a snakeskin, or a brittle shell after some sea creature has used and discarded it as its home. It’s like the real Bella up and left, only her body remaining.

Jacob has the fleeting thought that maybe the real Bella left with Edward.

* * *

_“Happy Birthday, Bella,” he whispers, leaning down to kiss her. They’re in the woods near Bella’s house—a private, sheltered place to celebrate her eighteenth birthday properly._

_His eyes are beautiful. Amber—green—red— they flicker in her memory like traffic lights. Her head is spinning, or maybe it’s the ground. Maybe it’s both. Maybe it’s neither._

_“What are you?” she whispers, and he smiles, pointed teeth glinting in the moonlight._

_“I’m what you needed me to be, Bella.”_

_And then he’s gone._

* * *

“Isabella is suffering from a severe case of Schizophreniform disorder,” the doctor tells Charlie as they each keep one eye on the window. Bella is calm, though, even letting Jacob touch her once or twice.

“What does that mean exactly?” Charlie asks, gritting his teeth to keep from shaking the man. He’s fed up with medical terminology; he just wants to know what’s wrong with his daughter.

“Well, as I already told you, Bella’s delusional episodes have become reality for her,” the doctor says. Charlie nods impatiently, gesturing for him to continue. “What this means is that her perception of time, of past and present, is all very disjointed. It’s possible that she will have hallucinations; aspects of her delusions may manifest, to her, in the present time.”

Feeling lightheaded, Charlie asks the obvious question. “What do we do?”

The doctor sighs. “The first thing we need to do is have her face up to her past. That’s going to take time and patience. We’ll be scheduling psychotherapy sessions for her three or four times a week. My biggest worry is that for the therapy to work the way it’s intended to, we’re going to have to start easing her off the medication. The effects of that could be violence, increased mood swings—it could seem as though she’s getting worse before she’s getting better.”

“But she will get better?” Charlie asks desperately.

“With time, and treatment, yes, we would expect to move her past this.”

Charlie nods, leaning heavily against the wall. “Do whatever you have to do,” he pleads. “Just bring my baby back.”

* * *

_They’re lying in their meadow._

_“I’m all wrong for you,” he tells her. “I’m going to destroy you, one way or another. Is that what you want?”_

_“I want to be with you,” she answers. Edward laughs._

_“But Bella,” he says, amusement lacing his tone, “how can you be with me if you don’t know where I am?”_

* * *

“Bells?” Jacob says quietly, his hand brushing her arm. “You with me?”

She cocks her head to the side slowly, like she’s thinking about it.

“I don’t think I’m anywhere, Jacob,” she says finally. “Or maybe I’m everywhere. I don’t know. Where are you?”

“I’m right here, Bella,” Jacob chokes out. “I’m right here, with you. Always.”

Bella looks at him, her gaze horrifyingly blank for a second.

“Bella?” Jacob asks, trying to keep the alarm out of his voice. He’s just about to get off the bed, when Bella lays a hand on his arm.

“Jake,” she whispers. “Jacob, what are they doing to you?”

She looks scared, and a little repulsed, and Jacob thinks this would be a good time to leave. 

“Bella, I have to go now, okay? I’ll be back tomorrow,” he says quickly, dropping a quick kiss to her forehead. He’s never done that before, and suddenly realises that now may not have been the best time to start. Bella, however, doesn’t seem to have noticed.

“Jake, wait!” she cries out, her voice muted but clear.

Jacob pauses, unsure. “I’ve really gotta go, Bells,” he tries. He can see Charlie waiting to open the door, and he takes another step.

“Jacob,  _what are they doing to you_?” she screams suddenly. Jacob flinches, the sound altogether too loud as it reverberates off the walls, and the next thing he knows, Charlie and the doctor he’d been talking to outside are in the room.

“Jake, come on,” Charlie says, grabbing his arm as the doctor pulls out a syringe. A part of Jacob wants to stay, but he lets Charlie pull him away and down the hall. He can still hear Bella’s screaming, though.

“They’re tricking you! Don’t listen to them! They’re not what you think, they’re—”

It doesn’t take long for the tranquilisers to kick in.

* * *

_“I don’t want you anymore, Bella. I’m leaving.”_

* * *

Bella is on a black couch, her eyes glazed and unfocussed. She nods, shakes her head, sometimes gives monosyllable answers, but she volunteers nothing. They’re here to trick her, tell her that the things she remembers aren’t real, that  _Edward_ , her Edward, isn’t what she thinks he is.

They don’t understand. None of them do.

They keep pushing, asking her about the night he left, the night she tries so hard to forget.

They ask her questions, quiet but firm, questions that go around and around in her head until she doesn’t know which way is up.

* * *

_“Don’t go, Edward, please. I love you.”_

_(“Stop, please, it hurts—”)_

_“No, Bella. I can’t pretend anymore.”_

_(“You lay one fucking hand on her and I swear—”)_

_“Promise me you won’t do anything reckless.”_

_(“She’s a pretty fucking piece of meat! Bet you’re gagging for it, aren’t you, you little whore?”)_

_“Goodbye, Bella.”_

* * *

Bella vomits all over the carpet. The repressed memories converge on the fictional ones, and it’s her brain that suffers the stresses. She spends a long time unaware.

Then slowly, she begins to heal.

* * *

_“Happy Birthday, Bella,” he whispers, leaning down to kiss her. They’re in the woods near Bella’s house—a private, sheltered place to celebrate her eighteenth birthday properly._

_They’re having a picnic—the whole deal, with candles and sandwiches and even wine, which Edward apparently had to beg his father to buy for him._

_“To us,” Edward smiles. “Bella Swan and Edward Masen—a beautiful eighteen-year-old girl, and the guy lucky enough to have found her.”_

_Bella smiles. “I love you,” she murmurs. “Forever and ever, through time and space.”_

_Edward smiles at their private saying. “Through time and space,” he agrees, kissing her again._

_They’re oblivious to the rest of the world until a hand grips Bella’s hair tightly, half-dragging her off the ground. Edward acts instinctively, grabbing for her, but finds his hands held behind his back._

_Bella does the only thing she can think of. She screams._

_The guy holding her chuckles darkly in her ear. “No one’s gonna hear you out here, sweetheart,” he growls. “It’s just us. Aren’t we lucky?” He gives her hair another sharp tug._

_“Stop, please, it hurts,” she whispers. He laughs at her._

_“What were you two lovebirds doing out here all alone in the woods?” the other guy, the blonde one holding Edward, asks. “Were you fucking her? Did you fuck this pretty little bitch?”_

_“Screw you,” Edward hisses._

_“Hmm,” the blonde guy says, not sounding bothered in the least. “I’ve got a better idea. Why don’t you watch while we fuck your little slut, and then we’ll come back to you?”_

_“You lay one fucking hand on her and I swear, I will end you,” Edward says, low and deadly. The blonde guy spins him around, still holding tight to his wrists, and backhands him._

_“Now watch,” he snaps._

_Bella gasps, struggling against her captor._

_“I love them with a bit of fight,” he laughs, and it’s true, she can feel him pressing hard into her back. She nearly vomits from fear and revulsion when he pushes her onto the ground, spitting on two of his fingers before shoving them into her._

_She’s screaming at him, she knows that, but she has no idea what she’s saying. There’s a lot of “no” and quite a bit of “please stop”, but aside from that it’s fog in her brain._

_When he removes his fingers and shoves his cock inside, Bella prays for the relief of unconsciousness that doesn’t come. He pounds into her, his fingers around her throat, not exactly squeezing but reminding her who’s in charge. She hears Edward moan, low and broken, and she wants to reach out to him._

_“I’m okay,” she wants to say, “as long as you keep loving me.” But she can’t, she can’t breathe and it has nothing to do with the hand at her neck._

_He shudders and she can feel it, hot sticky come sliding down her thighs, and it’s only then that she realises with horror that he never used a condom._

_She starts to get up, but is shoved down again. It’s the blonde guy this time; the other guy is now holding Edward, forcing him to keep looking in her direction. There’s so much pain and guilt in his eyes, she wants to cry for him._

_Blondie is inside her with no warning and he’s too big, too thick; she can’t take it, but she has to, even as she screams and curses at him. The more she fights the harder he thrusts, until she feels like she might actually split open from the pain._

_Mercifully, she blacks out soon after._

_When she regains consciousness, it’s too quiet. She struggles to sit up, every part of her hurting. She dimly registers a few injuries, but they fade in comparison to her need to find Edward._

_She doesn’t have to go far._

_The sight that meets her eyes makes her retch; Edward has been flayed, beaten, raped, and stripped naked before they even started on killing him. His right eye had been gouged out, and three fingers are bent in a way that tells Bella instantly that they were broken._

_They tortured him, probably for a while by the amount of blood he’s lying in, and then left him here for her to find._

_Bella crawls into his arms—mutated to the point that his skin appears to have changed colour—and waits for death to claim her._

_Death, the bastard, doesn’t._

* * *

Eleven weeks later, Bella is formally discharged.

She’s still a little broken, but it’s cracks now, not fragments. Edward is still a shadow, hovering over her shoulder at every turn, but she is learning to grieve, and he fades a little more each day.

The scars and bruises on her arms have gone, and her hair is growing back. The scars on her soul might take a little longer, but nobody expects any different.

The sunlight is dazzling. Bella blinks a few times before she notices the truck in the parking lot;  _her_  truck. Jacob is leaning against it, smiling at her.

“Looking good, Bella,” he grins as she steps closer to him.

“You brought my truck,” she smiles back, still a little dazed.

“Yeah, I did. Is that okay? Are  _you_  okay?” he asks, concerned.

Bella drops her gaze. “He’s gone, Jake,” she whispers.

Jacob sweeps a hand across her cheek gently; she’s still so fragile. “Yes, Bella, he’s gone,” he says quietly. “But I’m here.”

Bella nods. “Okay,” she says as she opens the door of her truck. “Okay.”


End file.
